


Supper at the Love Hotel

by eech



Series: Romance in Hawkins [1]
Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: (but only a little) - Freeform, Bisexual Nancy Wheeler, F/F, Internalized Homophobia, Lesbian Robin Buckley, Oral Sex, Past Steve Harrington/Nancy Wheeler
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-02
Updated: 2019-08-02
Packaged: 2020-07-29 01:28:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 5,870
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20073862
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eech/pseuds/eech
Summary: Maybe Steve is more perceptive than she thinks. Maybe there is some truth to his statement.Maybe she already knew, and she just doesn’t want to admit it.She leaves that thought on the dingy floor, brushing off the fragments of the idea that try and follow her out of the glass door and into the downpour. If she hurries, she can outrun that possibility.But when she sleeps that night, the rain playing percussion against her roof, NancylovesRobin reassembles itself from where it lay. Like the Mind Flayer, it seeps in through the cracks beneath her door and possesses her. That night she dreams of worship, but not the Christian kind. She dreams of the type of reverence that lies between a woman’s thighs, the type of prayer that includes more tongues and lips than words. Holy seduction.





	1. Nancy Has Some Reckoning To Do With Her Emotions

**Author's Note:**

> the author uses Nancy as a vessel for her own desire to be topped by Robin Buckley: the fic 
> 
> this fic is inconsistent in its style and rambly as hell and you can kind of tell when I was trying to get experimental vs when I was just trying to write so my greatest apologies for the writing in this one. I hope it's good enough anyways.
> 
> short warning for some mild internalized homophobia (I'd say it's closer to denial than homophobia but a warning anyways), the usage of the word dyke (but only once) and some very mild mentioned homophobia.

Nancy has always appreciated the curve of a woman’s waist and hips, the softness of a woman’s lips when she speaks, the way a woman would flutter her eyelashes when she was interested in someone. 

Not in a weird way- everyone does that. Every girl she knows talks constantly about how  _ cute  _ their friend looked in that cocktail dress on Friday, or how their friend is absolutely bitchin’ today. It’s normal. Sometimes she even thinks about having  _ s-e-x _ with a girl, but that’s completely ordinary, not anything off the beaten path. Par for the course.

When she was twelve she asked Mallory if she ever thought about that stuff, and sure, Mallory said  _ ew, what are you, a dyke?  _ But Mallory was also a stuck-up bitch who didn’t even let David Gallagher kiss her on the  _ cheek.  _ So she figured it was normal, and Mallory was just a bitch. 

It only gets a little borderline when she finds herself admiring the way a  _ particular _ woman looks- the way Susan held her first cigarette all delicate in between her blush-pink painted fingers, the way Adelaide’s nose curved in profile, the way May’s boobs looked in her low-cut shirt. She always figured it was just jealousy, though- she’s not a  _ lesbian,  _ or anything. She likes guys. She likes their broad shoulders and their defined faces and she’s always tended towards the more feminine guys, sure, but there’s a difference between a feminine guy and a girl. 

And Angie Bierwald said that you’re supposed to  _ hate  _ someone when you’re jealous of them, so the fluttering in her stomach when Angie’s eyes were on her was hatred. That was what it was. She hated Susan, she hated Adelaide, and she  _ hated  _ May- because May wore low-cut tops like a slut. 

One person she hates, right now, is Robin. She doesn’t know why, because Robin doesn’t have much she’s jealous over. Sure, Robin is more carefree, more spirited, less of a  _ priss,  _ but that doesn’t explain why her freckles entrance Nancy and why she feels like she’s going to throw up when Robin leans over the counter and Nancy can smell Robin’s perfume, mingled with what smells like Steve’s cologne.

She’s jealous of Robin, she thinks, because Robin is  _ clearly  _ dating Steve, everyone can tell.

Fortuitously, she ends up stepping into Family Video on a drenched Sunday morning. The town is painted monochrome, shades of blue-grey. It’s all very saturated with melodrama, how she hugs her coat tightly to her shivering frame and how the water runs off her hair in rivulets. Off to peep at her unrequited love and his betrothed, rapping with white knuckles against the laminate countertop of the video store. 

“Hey, Nance, what’s up?” Steve says.

She shivers, whether from cold or the nickname, she can’t tell. 

“Just returning this movie. Uh-” she flips it over, reading the title, “the Labyrinth.” 

Nancy doesn’t know why she’s trying to be amicable, especially when Robin is positively leering over her boyfriend’s shoulder, expression infuriatingly pleasant. It doesn’t help that Robin is so beautiful that it makes it  _ hard  _ to hate her. 

“Oh, neat. David Bowie is hot as hell in that one,” Steve swipes the movie away from her, “you looking to rent anything else?”

_ No,  _ she wants to say,  _ I don’t want to spend any more time with you or your girlfriend.  _ But she  _ does  _ want to stay, is the thing, she wants to spend as much time with him as possible. 

Robin catches her eye, and Nancy feels her body warm up. 

_ Open communication _ was a thing that Nancy and Steve had set up after the second coming of the demogorgons, even though they weren’t dating anymore, because if they wanted to be friends, they needed to talk. Open communication is, of course, hard, but if she’s having such strong feelings for him again, well. She needs to talk to him about it. Even though she doesn’t want to break Steve and Robin up, she  _ definitely _ does. 

She’s been feeling illicit lately. Coy. Like she wants to have an affair with the secretary, be a homewrecker. It’s a new feeling entirely, and she consciously tries to reject it, but  _ god  _ does she want Robin to whisk her away and then divorce her husband and buy a house in Souther- wait. 

Strange thought she just had there. 

“Earth to Nancy. You wanna rent something else?” 

“Uh, nah, I’m good. But um- hey, Steve,” he looks up from where he’s rewinding tapes, “you have a lunch break?”

“I’m off at noon, actually. So, yeah.”

“Could we meet up at Sandy’s, quarter til one?”

“Sure,” Steve shrugs. 

  
  



	2. Sandy's and Gratuitous Terrible Prose

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nancy confesses to Steve and is appalled by his response; she once again finds herself in Family Video, but not by her own design.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> forgot to mention: wrote this in a day, unbeta'd, so all mistakes are my own, but let's pretend that they aren't

Sandy’s is one of those small, greasy diners that propagate in places like Hawkins. It’s stuck in the 50’s, with old vinyl seating and laminate tables. The floors are black-and-white checkerboard, and when she was younger and the floors were less sticky, she’d always try and get Sandy to let her have a giant version of a chess game on the diner floor. Sometimes there’ll be truckers sitting at the bar, nursing an Irish coffee and a plate of eggs and bacon. It’s a good joint, and it’s got an old jukebox that gets busted when you try to play the sixth track. 

Steve is already at Sandy’s by the time she arrives, contemplating the greasy menus as if he hasn’t been here thousands of times already and doesn’t know the menu by heart. Slim pickings in a small town like Hawkins. 

He looks resplendent in his new style- he’s been looking more punk rock, bad boy lately, a clear Robin influence. He still wears his cashmere sweaters, but then again, those have always been a favorite of Nancy’s. 

When he catches her eye, she’s suddenly aware that she’s standing stock-still, doing nothing but dripping water on the checked floor of the diner. 

He puts down the menu as soon as she slides into the booth opposite him.

“What did you want to talk about?” 

“What, I couldn’t just want to have a nice lunch with a good friend?” 

He laughs, cocking an eyebrow, “I know you, Nance. No, you couldn’t just want to have a nice lunch with a good friend. There’s a purpose to this meeting, so what is it?”

She pouts at him, “could we wait until we get some food?”

He rolls his eyes, “fine.”

They shoot the shit until their food arrives, then eat in silence for a couple minutes. Finally, mouth full of chicken tender, Steve rounds on her.

“So, what do you want?”

She gulps, expecting the arrival of the buzz that she gets in her hands when she’s nervous, but it never comes. Unusually, she’s calm. 

“I think I’m in love with you.”

Steve looks at her for a few seconds, shock written plainly all over his features, before he just-  _ laughs.  _

“No, you’re not.”

“Wh- what? The hell? How do you know how I feel? What the-” she splutters, “you… you don’t kn- you don’t…”

“I’m serious, Nance. I know what you look like when you’re in love- I’ve seen the way you looked at Jonathan. And I know what you look like when you’re not in love- because I’ve seen the way you looked at me. You’ve never looked at me the way you’ve looked at Jonathan, but you know who you  _ are  _ in love with?” he leans closer, “Robin Buckley.”

“What? No.”

Steve shakes his head.

“You can keep saying that. Just so you know,” he leans in, smiles his small, private smile, “there’s a pot of gold at the end of that rainbow, if you want to chase it.”

And Nancy can’t even hope to begin to decipher what that means.

Just as she opens her mouth to ask him, he’s finishing his last fry and slapping down a twenty. He leaves her, sitting on a cracked red booth in Sandy’s diner, staring despondently at her milkshake. 

Though her hands weren’t shaking before, they are now. She looks at the way her hand grips the glass, her fingers long and slender. Perfect red oval nails, and she can’t help but muse over how her hands might look grasped in Robin’s. 

Maybe Steve is more perceptive than she thinks. Maybe there is some truth to his statement. 

Maybe she already knew, and she just doesn’t want to admit it. 

She leaves that thought on the dingy floor, brushing off the fragments of the idea that try and follow her out of the glass door and into the downpour. If she hurries, she can outrun that possibility. 

But when she sleeps that night, the rain playing percussion against her roof,  _ NancylovesRobin  _ reassembles itself from where it lay. Like the Mind Flayer, it seeps in through the cracks beneath her door and possesses her. That night she dreams of worship, but not the Christian kind. She dreams of the type of reverence that lies between a woman’s thighs, the type of prayer that includes more tongues and lips than words. Holy seduction.

She’s had these types of dreams before. Usually, she wakes up in a cold sweat, shaking and terrified like  _ maybe  _ someone else could see her dreams. Usually, she chastises herself for them- feeling guilty for treating women like sexual objects. Usually is not today. 

Because in the morning, she wakes up, and the first thing she remembers is the certainty with which Steve had told her that she’s in love with Robin. The kindness in his eyes, the way his tone suggested-  _ I’m here with you, Nancy, and you don’t need to worry. It’s okay.  _

Because in the morning, she remembers his words-  _ there’s a pot of gold at the end of that rainbow, if you want to chase it.  _

She doesn’t feel guilty at all. Just confused. 

Even after laying in bed for hours, doing nothing but think over what Steve said, she still doesn’t understand. She  _ hates  _ Robin, she’s positive of it, just like she hated Susan and Adelaide and May. She was in love with Jonathan. Lesbians don’t fall in love with men. She needs to know what he  _ meant.  _

Perhaps she’ll pay the video store a visit, and with the same pluckiness she’s known for, pull Steve aside and demand answers from him. Shake a manicured finger in his face, watch him tremble like a leaf beneath her fiery glare. She might opt for a gentler route, visit with Robin while the two or three customers mill about, leaning over the counter, so close she can hear every breathy giggle Robin makes every time Nancy says something witty. 

That would be strange to do, though, since she still  _ hates  _ Robin. She hates her. But those little seeds of doubt are sown in her head. Sown by the conniving bastard that Steven Harrington has proved to be, trying to make her- trying to make her- 

  
She screams into her pillow out of frustration. She is  _ not  _ a lesbian. 

When she stomps downstairs, Mike is sitting smugly at the kitchen table, throwing a wrench in her half-baked plans. Putting another reason onto the long list of why Nancy Wheeler is  _ absolutely  _ not having it today. 

“I need you to drive me to Dustin’s.”

“Absolutely not,” she huffs, pulling her white fluffy bathrobe in close. 

“Shit, Nancy,  _ please.  _ It’s pouring and I don’t wanna bike. I’ll be there overnight so you won’t have to pick me up at all today. C’mon. Whole day Mike-free? It’s not like you’ve got anything to do. Please?” he begs.

She pours some coffee out of the percolator, nearly gagging at the strength, but it’s cool to drink your coffee black. 

“Fine. I’m not getting dressed, though.”

Mike scrunches up his nose, “I don’t care and I don’t wanna hear about it. Let’s  _ go. _ ”

It’s only once they’re in the car, halfway to Dustin’s, that Mike decides to remember that he  _ needs  _ to go to Family Video  _ now  _ because he swore to Dustin he’d bring movies to watch and he  _ completely forgot  _ and- 

That is how she finds herself, bathrobe and all, standing in front of Robin and Steve while Mike demands their services. 

“Shut up, twerp,” Robin pushes Mike’s forehead away from her, “I told you a million times that we don’t have A New Hope right now. Two of the tapes are broken and the other three are being rented out. Come back next time, or pick out another movie. Steve, can you help him find another movie?”

“Ugh,” he groans, “fine. You’re on rewind duty while I’m gone,” then he leans in and whispers something inaudible to Robin, throwing a quick glance at Nancy.

While Mike and Steve are off picking through movies, she slowly wanders up to the counter. Robin has her locked in a searing gaze.

“Cute outfit,” Robin teases.

She looks down, taking stock of her matching silk pajamas- a camisole and shorts- and her robe. She likes the way they look on her, like she’s about to call someone ‘darling’ in a British accent and then smoke a long, thin cigarette. She hadn’t accounted for the fact that maybe she’d be showing up in public in the ensemble. 

“I didn’t know I’d be out in public. I was just gonna sit in the car and drop Mike off.”

“I don’t mind. You look nice.”

“Oh, uh- thanks.”

Saving the two from an awkward silence, or worse, an awkward conversation, Mike and Steve haul ass back to the counter, an armful of tapes in tow.

“I am  _ not  _ paying for all of those, Michael. Three tapes, max. Pick and choose.”

“But I want  _ all  _ of them.”

“What, you and Dustin gonna stop time so you can watch all thousand of those tapes in an evening? Three.”

When he doesn’t choose three, she picks three at random, pays for them, and then pulls Mike out by the ear, squalling and kicking all the way. 

“I don’t want  _ those three, _ ” he shouts when she’s imprisoned him in the car.

“Michael Robert Wheeler, I can guarantee you I do not give a  _ damn  _ which ones you wanted. I am on my last nerve with you and if you don’t want me to drive you to Dustin’s, you can hop out the window right fuckin’ now because you are a  _ royal  _ pain in the ass.”

“Jesus, why are you so fucking touchy today?”

“Maybe because  _ I’m not fucking telling you! _ Now  _ shut up  _ and let me  _ drive! _ ”

He’s mercifully silent for the rest of the ride. 

The drive back is too quiet, but she doesn’t care to turn on the radio. She’s got nothing to do this weekend, and while a month ago she would be calling up Jonathan and asking him to hang out somewhere- maybe go bowling, or eat at the Palladio, or just watch a movie together- but she doesn’t have that liberty anymore. 

Nancy Wheeler is pretty lonely. 

  
  



	3. Nancy, Fortunately or Unfortunately- Depending On Your Stance On the Issue- Does Things

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nancy gets an invite!

Nancy’s day of doing absolutely nothing is interrupted by the ringing of the telephone at around four in the afternoon.

“Wheeler residence, to whom am I speaking?” 

“Nancy! Hi, it’s Steve.”

“Yeah, I can hear that,” she grumbles, “why are you calling?”

“I just wanted to see if you wanted to join me and Robs for dinner. It doesn’t sound like you’re doing much.”

“Sorry, Steve. I’m not… I don’t want to really… third wheel with you and Robin.”

“Uh, Nance- Robin and I  _ aren’t _ dating.”

She mulls it over. She doesn’t believe them, but it’s not like she has anything better to do.

“Okay. Fine.”

They’re going to the Palladio, which was Jonathan and Nancy’s go-to date spot when they didn’t want to stay in but they didn’t want to do anything else. To say it’s fancy would be a stretch- it’s a middling restaurant, nice enough that people will dress up kind of nice, but cheap enough that teenagers can afford to go there. It’s one of those places that isn’t really a family restaurant, and not a lot of adults want to go there because they don’t serve alcohol or anything, so it’s mostly just a bunch of teenagers on dates or hanging out as groups. 

Nancy is the first to arrive, taking a table by the corner, so that she can look out at the twinkling lights of the patio when things inevitably get boring for her. She’s got her hair up in a ponytail, with a little faux-pearl clip to hold back her bangs, and a delicate floral number that swoops kind of low in the back but stays high up on her chest. Admittedly, a little fancier than is appropriate for the Palladio. She doesn’t particularly care, though- after today’s wardrobe mishaps in Family Video, she wants to redeem herself.

(Robin  _ did  _ say she looked nice.)

Finally, seventeen minutes late, the couple arrive. Steve sits in the very corner, with his right side facing the wall, as he always does. It’s one of his weird idiosyncrasies. To Nancy’s surprise, instead sitting across from her, Robin slides into the chair her right. 

“Sorry we’re late, Steve doesn’t know how to dress,” Robin says, by way of greeting. 

“I’m well aware,” Nancy chuckles.

“I wouldn’t have brought either of you with me if I’d known you’d just attack me,” Steve says.

“You definitely knew what you were getting into. Your ex and your best friend eating dinner together… we have  _ all  _ the dirt on you, dingus. We’re unstoppable.”

Nancy snorts, “more like the only two friends his age eating dinner together.”

Steve looks mock-affronted. 

“Oh, I’m sorry. Would you two like me to leave so you can have your little date?”

“Actually, dingus, please do. Run along.”

A hush falls over their table as a waiter materializes. He’s young, clearly still in high school. 

“Oh, shit! Harrison!” 

Robin clearly recognizes him.

“Robin? Wow, what are you doing hanging out with these two?”

“Just climbing the social ladder, y’know,” she jokes, “gotta make it to the top somehow.”

It should make Nancy uncomfortable. Things like that usually do. But when Robin elbows her lightly, all she feels is  _ warm.  _

Harrison laughs, “I see. I would do the same, but Jessica already rejected me about five times. What can I get for you guys today?”

“Will one of you guys split a Shirley Temple with me?” Robin asks, looking intently at the drink menu, as if trying to avoid eye contact.

“Nah, I don’t like ‘em. Could I have a water and a lemonade?” Steve says.

“I’ll share one with you, Robin,” Nancy says, and the warmth spreads. It burns her ears and settles down over her chest.

“Okay. Nancy and I will split a Shirley Temple, and I’d like a water. Nance, you want a water?” 

Nancy opens her mouth to object to the use of her nickname, the one that  _ only people she’s super close to get to use _ , but all that comes out is “sure, I’ll take a water.”

“Alright. I’ll come back and take your orders in a moment.”   
  


Robin beams at him, and that  _ smile  _ sends shivers down her spine. She wants that expression to be focused at her. 

“So, Nance, what have you been up to lately. I know we’re not really friends, but you seem pretty cool.”

“Not much. I’m taking classes at the community college, and I work part-time as a disc jockey on the college radio station.”

“No shit? I listen to college radio all the time. It’s good music. I’m sure you’re picking some of it out.”

“Well, mostly we just take recommendations from the students, or from callers, but sometimes if we run down the list and we’ve got nothing else to play one of us will get to pick a song.”

“That’s awesome. I’m taking this semester off, but I’m starting classes there in the spring. I wanted to get out of Hawkins ASAP, but then I met dingus and I had a reason to stay. He also broke the news to me that living in a city is more expensive than living in Hawkins.”

Nancy’s heart sinks at the almost certain confirmation that Robin and Steve are dating. Nobody stays in a town they want to get out of  _ just  _ for their best friend. 

“You have your own place?”

“Yep,” Robin says, popping the ‘p’, which makes Nancy notice how nice Robin’s lips are, lipgloss on, and she wonders what it’d be like to kiss them-

“Moved in with Steve two weeks ago. Family Video pays pretty well now that we’re both working full-time, but it’s easier for us to split the cost than to struggle along alone.”

“Oh.”

She doesn’t know how she didn’t know this. She’s one of Steve’s two only friends, and she knows he has his own place, and she figures that he would have told her that Robin moved in with him. Apparently, he didn’t. It isn’t a big deal, but it  _ stings,  _ for reasons she can’t actually decipher. Sometimes she finds herself wishing she’d followed Jonathan out of Hawkins. 

“What about you?”

And Nancy is so caught up in her own misery that it takes her a couple seconds to realize what she had been asked.

“I’m still living with my parents. Job as a disc jockey doesn’t pay enough,” she shrugs.

The drinks arrive, and there are three maraschino cherries. Nancy lets Robin have the last one, even though she loves maraschino cherries, just because the way Robin’s lips look around the cherry is borderline offensive. 

Steve doesn’t seem to be a stellar conversationalist this evening, choosing instead to take languid sips from his straw while observing the two women or looking out of the window. Nancy doesn’t care enough to draw him out of his silence. 

“Are you ready to order?”

They place their orders, before returning to a tentative silence. 

“So, what are you planning on doing?” Robin asks, after a solid minute. 

“What do you mean?”

“Like, after college and everything? You gonna move out of Hawkins, or..?” Robin prompts.

“Oh,” she’s been saying that a lot lately, “I’m not entirely sure. I used to have a plan, but then it changed, so I don’t really know what my plan is. To be honest, I’m kind of comfortable right here, but… I’ve always kind of wanted to know what it’s like to live in a big city.”

“Yeah, me too. I’ve heard good things about California. Max and Billy talk about San Diego sometimes. It sounds nice. San Francisco does, too, but I don’t know. I’ve always wanted to go somewhere warm. And with palm trees.”

“I’ve been to San Diego, before. When I was ten, and Mike was six or seven. From what I can remember, it’s cool.”

Robin hums and nods. 

Most of their conversation is bland, surface-level ‘get to know me!’ stuff, but it’s nice. It’s nice to have a friend that isn’t her ex-boyfriend, or her little brother and all of his friends. So nice, in fact, that by the end of the night, she and Robin have already planned a get-together. Tomorrow, at Robin’s apartment. Steve will be gone- he’s going up to Chicago for the day to visit an old friend. 

Maybe she doesn’t hate Robin anymore

And maybe it feels, suspiciously, like a date.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this thing steadily gets worse from here. it's not well written but that's okay because we need robinancy content


	4. An Incredibly Short Chapter, One That Is So Short It Didn't Need to Be a Chapter But I Decide What's What

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Robin makes cookies.

True to her nature, Nancy shows up at six in the evening on the dot. After she’d gotten home from her three to four pm class on the art of creative writing, she’d taken a long, hot shower, then spent all too long (an hour and a half) choosing something to wear. 

Not a date, but it  _ feels  _ like one. 

She doesn’t know what possessed her to wear fucking  _ lingerie  _ under her soft turtleneck and worn jeans, but one moment she’d been pondering what to wear and the next moment she’d been donning her lacy black bra and panties.

Sue her.

She stares at the silver lettering on the door,  _ 13c,  _ before collecting all of the gumption in her body and rapping on the door. 

The door muffles the sound, but she thinks she hears Robin shout ‘ _ coming _ ’ and then a smattering of footsteps.

She’s faced with a near-frantic Robin, half her hair pulled back into a ponytail and the other half falling out, a plain black t-shirt tucked into a pair of sweatpants. Lips shiny with lipgloss. 

_ What is it with Robin and lipgloss? _

“Hey, Nance, I didn’t know you’d be so early.”

“I’m on time,” she glances at her watch, “It’s 6:01.”

“Oh, huh. You’re right. Come on in. Sorry, the kitchen is a little bit of a mess, that’s my fault. I was baking. I still am, really,” Robin leans down to root through the fridge, “beer?”

“Sure,” Nancy hops up on the counter and takes a bottle from Robin’s outstretched hand, “what’re you baking?”

“Cookies. Um, snickerdoodle, because they’re my favorite, and Steve told me you like the type with the cranberries and the macadamia nuts and the white chocolate so I made those, too.”

“That’s sweet of you, you really didn’t have to.”

“I wanted to, though,” Robin grins at her, hops up on the counter opposite her, “I’ve always liked baking. I make stuff for the kids like every week.”

They sip their beers in silence for a couple of moments. She feels like she might be in some sort of independent film.

“So,” Nancy starts, “you and Steve?”

Robin lets out a startled laugh, shaking her head.

“No way. There are… multiple reasons why that wouldn’t work out. He liked me at the beginning, but I think he just mistook making a friend that he actually enjoys spending time with for genuine attraction. He’s over it, now. And I’m… he’s… he’s not really my  _ type,  _ let’s say. We’re really close friends, though. I owe him a lot, and he owes  _ me  _ a lot, too.”

“Not your type?” Nancy hopes Robin might… expand on the statement.

“Maybe I’ll tell you once my lips are a little looser,” Robin winks.

“Oh, your timer is up,” Nancy points to the beeping kitchen timer.

“That’d be the cookies.”

And god, they smell  _ delicious.  _

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im not sure what I was doing when I made this chapter 3 words long but. I mean I did it I guess.


	5. The Author is a Virgin and It Shows: The Chapter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nancy and Robin get saucy ;-)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> quick warning: Nancy and robin have both had a couple of beers by the time things get hot and heavy, and they're both mildly buzzed/tipsy but not drunk. i wouldn't really consider it to be remotely dub con but I mean some might so just letting u know ahaha

Robin and Nancy are both a couple bottles deep. 

At some point, Robin put on a Queen record, and they started slow-dancing around the room. Now they’re both collapsed on the couch, only kind of buzzed and playing Truth or Truth (because neither of them are willing to get up.)

“Truth or Truth, Robin?” Nancy nudges Robin’s shoulder.

“Truth.”

“Hm… who was your first crush?” 

Nancy can feel Robin tense up, but then her shoulders relax again.

“This kid back in Awlville, which was where I lived up until fourth grade. Their name was Jackie. I don’t know why I had a crush on them. Just… cute, I guess. Okay, Nancy, Truth or Truth?”

“That’s a tough one… hm… Truth.”

“Who was  _ your  _ first crush?”

“It would either have been Thomas Avery, or Adelaide Wu. I can’t remember who came first.”

“Adelaide, huh?’

“Yeah.”

Somewhere in between arrival and now, Nancy had had a moment of perfect, beer-induced clarity, that being: she’s definitely into women. Alcohol. The founder of all men.

“So, Robin, are your lips loose yet?”

“I suppose they are,” Robin says, lightly bopping Nancy’s nose.

“Truth or Truth?”

“That one’s gotta be Truth.”

“Okay: if Steve isn’t your type, who is? I mean, I know I broke up with him, but he’s still a catch,” Nancy turns so that she’s looking into Robin’s eyes.

“You wanna know what my type is?” Robin asks.

Nancy nods. She really, really does. She’s kind of hoping that Robin’s type is small brunettes with grey eyes and plucky attitudes. 

“Let me show you.”

Then Robin’s fingertips are brushing her chin and tracing the curves of her cheekbones. Nancy can’t help but lean closer, when Robin cups her face like Nancy is the most precious thing she’s ever held. Like she’s fine china and she’ll break if she’s dropped.

“You break it, you buy it,” Nancy giggles.

Nancy’s  _ trying really hard  _ to look into Robin’s eyes, but her lips are just so perfect, and her eyes just keep flicking down. 

All it takes for Nancy’s body to spontaneously combust is a simple brush of the lips. They’re close enough, now, that their breath starts to mingle. Nancy’s buzzing from the brief taste of Robin’s lipgloss.

Nancy pulls Robin in, throwing her arms around her shoulders, shifting so that she’s more on Robin than on the couch. 

Pure ecstasy. 

This is everything that Nancy had ever dreamed of. She never understood why people would say they felt fireworks, because this isn’t an explosion. This is electricity, setting her alight, frying her nerves. She can feel  _ everything-  _ Robin’s body pressed against hers, Robin’s hand settling on the curve of her waist and her other hand locked on Nancy’s lower back, how soft Robin’s lips feel. 

Everything goes fuzzy except for the taste of Robin on her lips. She wants to stay there forever, but Robin pulls back.

Nancy pouts.

“Why’d you do that?”

Robin looks  _ delicious.  _

“To take you somewhere more comfortable,” and she’s hoisting Nancy up, because she’s  _ strong,  _ and taking her over to her bedroom.

“Oh my god- are we gonna have sex?  _ Please  _ tell me we’re gonna have sex,” Nancy babbles, which is embarrassing, but who cares.

“Only if you want to,” Robin says, and then she’s being dropped onto the bed, the manhandling eliciting a delighted squeal from her.

“I do want to. Take off my shirt,” Nancy demands.

When Robin takes off her sweater, her hands drag up the length of Nancy’s body, and Nancy is pretty sure that torture is illegal in all fifty states, so this  _ has  _ to be some sort of crime. 

“Put your hands on me,” she says, but because she’s polite, she tacks on, “please?” 

Robin says nothing, just goes to unhook Nancy’s bra clasps. She  _ still  _ isn’t putting her hands on Nancy, which is kind of infuriating, but also kind of  _ hot,  _ but then she’s taking off her own shirt and her own bra and Nancy thinks maybe waiting could have been worth it. 

Then Robin is straddling Nancy and they’re kissing again. Robin tastes like snickerdoodles and lipgloss and beer and she feels drunker than she did before they kissed. There’s something about kissing Robin, about Robin’s hands on her breasts, that feels like nothing she’s ever felt before.

It’s a religious experience, and when Robin brings her mouth to Nancy’s nipple, she swears she hears a hymn. Robin’s body is a temple and Nancy wants to desecrate the holy grounds by kissing every inch of her skin. She feels heat rush to her hips and she needs Robin, she needs her  _ now,  _ more than she’s needed anything else in her whole life. 

“Robin,  _ please, _ ” she whispers, fumbling at the button of her jeans. 

She finally gets them undone and down, and looks up to Robin for permission before doing the same to Robin’s sweatpants. 

“You’re so beautiful, Robin.”

Robin leans back down, sucking at Nancy’s collarbone. She traces over Nancy’s body with her fingertips, and it only serves to make matters worse. 

Somewhere in between Robin’s teeth on her shoulder and Robin’s hand running up her thigh, they turn sideways, and Nancy doesn’t think she can get close enough to Robin. 

Robin’s thigh slots itself between Nancy’s. Nancy moans, heat pooling in her panties. She’s flushed with arousal. 

Finally,  _ finally,  _ Robin touches her. In one swift motion she pulls Nancy’s panties down and rubs her clit. The moan that she produces is embarrassingly loud and strangled, but the electricity humming just beneath her skin has been itching to be released. 

It’s almost feral in its intensity, the primal art of lips on skin. Robin sinks down and presses her mouth to Nancy’s clit. 

“Fuck,” Nancy whines, arching her back. 

Subconsciously she spreads her legs wider, doesn’t even realize it when her hand reaches for Robin’s hair. 

The electricity is setting every inch of her skin on fire, building up in her stomach, aching for the floodgates to open. For just a moment, she feels like she’s falling off a cliff, plummeting, and then Robin starts placing hickeys at the junction between her hip and her thigh and crooks her fingers  _ just right  _ and she’s being lifted up to the heavens.

She has to hold back the scream that threatens to escape, moaning high and soft instead as the flashing colors behind her eyelids start to fade back into blackness. 

Robin moves up from where she was placing one last hickey, sucking Nancy’s wet from her fingers and that’s actually pretty hot, and pulls Nancy in by the hips. She places a kiss smack on Nancy’s lips. 

“I think I might love you, Robin Buckley,” Nancy whispers, eyes fluttering shut. 

She puts her head against Robin’s shoulder and slings her leg over Robin’s. 

“Sorry your sheets smell like sex,” Nancy says.

“That’s okay. They smell like you.”

“That’s romantic. Did I already tell you I think I might love you?” Nancy asks, yawning.

“Yeah. And you know what, Nancy Wheeler? If you keep looking at me with those big grey eyes, I might not have a choice in loving you, too.”

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> what it says on the tin. I am a virgin, I don't think I've ever written smut, please don't come for my throat. this is mediocre and i know it but ... robinancy content


	6. A Round of Applause for the Unsatisfying Finale

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve comes home, Robin and Nancy talk.

“I’m home!” Is the first thing Nancy hears when she wakes up.

It’s Steve. 

_ Oh shit. It’s Steve.  _

“I don’t care,” Robin grumbles, too quiet for Steve to hear.

_ KNOCK. KNOCK. KNOCK.  _

“You awake, Robs? Shift starts in an hour.”

The door swings open.

“Rob- oh, hey, Nance,” she peels one eye open. 

“Jesus- I could have been changing and naked, dingus!” Robin shouts, bunching the blanket up at her chest as she sits up. 

“Well, you’re naked, but you weren’t changing. Anyways, Robin, our shift starts in an hour, and I know how long it takes you to wake up in the morning. It’s eight, by the way. Also,” he looks pointedly at Nancy and Robin, “I made waffles and eggs. And Dustin’s over, by the way, since today’s his first day.”

“First day of what?” Robin asks, still groggy, “also, you talk too much in the morning.”

“So I’ve been told. He’s working at Family Video, remember? Today’s his orientation.”

“Shit. Anyways, get out of my sight. I don’t want men to be here spoiling the moment.”

Steve rolls his eyes, but complies. 

“So,” Robin says, as she stretches languidly, letting the blanket fall off of her, “how’d you like last night?”

Nancy rolls over, propping herself up on her elbow, “does Steve know about you? Being… y’know…”

“A lesbian? Yeah. I told him the night of the Starcourt Mall.”

“I’m not… a lesbian,” Nancy starts, cautious. 

“I loved last night, it was… it was so good but… I like  _ guys. _ ”

“You can like both, y’know?” 

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

“That’s… huh. I guess I like both. Right now, though,” she whispers, in a poor attempt to seem seductive, “I only like you.”

Robin laughs, pulling her into a chaste kiss.

“So… we’re doing this?” Nancy asks.

“If you want to.”

“What are we, then?”

“Girlfriends. Lovers.”

Nancy guides Robin’s palm up so that it cups her cheek, like it did last night.

“Lovers.”

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ah, and here it is. the end of the fic. not a good end, I might add, but I was really chugging along and then I got to the sex scene and all my mojo fled the scene. I really struggled to wrap this up in a satisfying way, so. I'm sorry. but regardless, I really hoped you guys like it!!!!!!! I know we're all just wlw starved for robinancy content so I hope this satisfies your cravings!!!!!!!

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading! I hope you guys like it and I'd love some feedback/constructive criticism in the comments as I'm always looking to improve my craft (both lesbianism and writing). 
> 
> my Tumblr is @/glazbenik so if you want to talk robinancy or just general stranger things go ahead and hit me up!


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